Birth of the Alliance (44 page)

He elected to smile. “I can’t exactly turn off my Energy now, can I, Porthos? That’s Aramis’ job, though he’s not doing a stellar job at the moment. As I see it, the only solution to your olfactory quandary is to release me.” He glanced at Aramis. “Or Aramis can just give it up and I'll leave on my own. No hard feelings for the unfriendly greeting back in the parking garage.”

That got a reaction from Athos, who turned and glared at Will. “Not a chance, Stark. We have a job to do, and we
will
complete our mission successfully.”

Will wondered when the Hunters had started referring to him by his last name. It had been a centuries-long tradition for the Aliomenti to use only given names; the use of family names was a taboo in a group that frowned on committed relationships and literally killed anyone who reproduced. But Will wasn’t part of the Aliomenti anymore, so that taboo wasn’t one that applied. That consideration hadn’t stopped them from trying to enforce their rules upon him, though.

Athos’ words irked him, sparked his competitive nature, and gave him even further motivation to make a good show of trying to escape. He yawned to demonstrate his lack of concern. “I’d say that's dependent on whether Porthos can get me into your long-range prison craft before Aramis cracks under pressure, wouldn’t you?” He reached over and patted Aramis on the arm with his free hand in a patronizing manner. “Ease up, old man. It’ll be less painful for you if you do. You
know
you can’t win this battle with me.”

Aramis’ eyes blazed in fury, in marked contrast to his beet-red face, damp skin, and pallid complexion. “I know nothing of the sort. I won’t
ever
quit.”

Will shrugged, and pretended to mop Aramis’ sweat off his sleeve. “Wake me when it’s over, if by some miracle I haven’t already escaped.”

Athos radioed the transport craft, presumably to determine when they’d arrive at the rendezvous point. Will’s Empathy skills deduced that the Hunter didn’t get the answer he was seeking, and he heard his name uttered. Despite his words to the contrary, Athos was terrified that Will was going to slip out of their clutches once more.

Except that Will couldn’t escape. Not yet.

Like the Hunters, he had a job to complete, and until he finished that he couldn’t disappear or let them complete the capture and toss him in the dampering cell. His mind came up with a problem with his earlier plan. Embedding the pods in Athos’
clothing
wouldn’t work, because Athos was likely to change clothes before ever visiting the prison area. There was only one way to ensure the pods made it to their final destination.

Will needed to embed the pods in Athos’ skin. He had only a few minutes to figure out how to do that. He didn’t think the pods were small enough to get inside the cells, and they had no means to attach to the skin.

As Will plotted, Porthos spoke into the radio transmitter, not troubling to keep his voice down. “Transport, please confirm that the execution of the human targets is scheduled to proceed as planned.”

Will sucked in his breath. Had they sent others in to abduct humans from the casino? Had they seized the mother of the leukemia patient? The thought sickened him.

“No, if they're resisting, you're permitted to… dissuade them,” Porthos said. “The Leader won’t mind, and I’m sure The Assassin would assist. He might… slip, though.” Porthos laughed.

“You wouldn’t
dare
!" Will snarled. In the back of his mind, a voice of sanity tried to speak, telling him Porthos was baiting him, distracting him from his efforts to escape, that there weren’t any human prisoners at risk. But emotion reigned. He didn’t notice the slight burst of Energy from Athos until it was too late, until the lead Hunter had teleported a heavy object to Aramis’ free hand, until the bespectacled Hunter had clubbed him in the side of the head with something resembling a brick.

The blow stunned him, and he fought to maintain consciousness. He couldn’t pass out now, not with the pods of nanos still attached to him. His healing nanos raced to the site of the blow, working to repair the damage. Will felt Aramis relax. The Hunter believed Will was unconscious, and he was frighteningly close to being correct. Will’s Energy dipped momentarily.

Porthos landed the flying craft a moment later and powered the engine down. He flipped the lever near the yoke, and the plane slowly transformed back into the two door sedan. Aramis’ efforts in trying to contain Will’s Energy had left him too drained to teleport them out. The Hunters believed Will was unconscious. Athos helped Aramis crawl over the seats to exit the vehicle, pulling the bound Will after his fellow Hunter. With the two men out of the car, Athos whirled on Porthos, scolding the Tracker for his failure to aid in the removal of Aramis and Will from the car.

Porthos busied himself “inspecting” the vehicle rather than listening to his boss’ complaints.

Will, who was finally getting his mental clarity back after the blow to the head, realized he was running out of time. The transport craft was coming, and he’d yet to deposit the pods on Athos’ skin in a manner ensuring they’d not fall off in transit. He needed to act, and he needed to do so immediately. The time for subtlety had ended.

Will sent a contingent of nanos into the glove binding him to Aramis, and the microscopic machines complied, beginning to eat away at the bonds that kept his hand in contact with the Hunter. And he let his Shield drop even further, accelerating the speed at which it dissipated.

Aramis noticed Will’s increased Energy immediately. His efforts to alert his fellow Hunters were ignored, as Athos and Porthos resumed their earlier argument about Porthos’ lack of assistance in extracting Aramis and Will from the car. Aramis mentally flailed away at Will’s Energy, trying desperately to reinforce the Damper. The wildlife around Will aided in his growing strength. The surge Aramis felt wasn’t just the surge from Will recovering from the blows and Dampering he’d suffered. Will’s eyes remained closed, but a look a peace and calm descended upon his face.

“You
could
have been asking Stark to provide his pleas to the charges against him,” Athos shouted at Porthos, “instead of forcing me to Read him while he was unconscious. But
no
, instead you stand around—”

“Guys!” Aramis screamed. “Stark is waking up
right now
!”

“How do I plead, Athos?” Will asked. The question hadn’t been directed at him, of course. He considered pleading guilty to their charges, for he was. He considered pleading not guilty, since he disagreed with the rules and had never agreed to be bound by them. He considered pleading insanity for putting up with the three Hunters and their Leader. But in the end, his plea, for himself, for his friends, and even for the Hunters themselves, was always the same. He wanted them free of Arthur’s tyranny.

Will opened his eyes and smiled at the Hunters. “I plead… freedom.”

And Will Stark unleashed his Energy in full.

He burst a large amount of Energy out of his body, still a small fraction of what he felt available in that moment, when anger and adrenaline and purpose came together. Aramis, still trying to snap the Damper down, screamed in utter agony. For Aramis, that burst proved the mental equivalent of looking directly at the sun with powerful night vision goggles.

Will glanced at the webbed glove still binding him to Aramis, and watched as the nanos finished their work, dissolving the material until his hand was free. Aramis had slumped to the ground, writhing in agony, his hands clawing at his head as if he could rip the pain from his skull. Will felt no unique malice toward the man, and the obvious pain evoked a brief bout of sympathy for the Hunter. Will knew he hadn't enjoyed being in pain in his first encounter with the Hunters in the year 2030.

He put thoughts of concern for Aramis aside. Athos and Porthos were still quite healthy, and both were intent upon subduing Will by whatever means necessary. The transport ship, with its prison and Aliomenti reinforcements, would arrive in just a few minutes. Will intended to finish his mission before that happened. Escape had never been his intent, but given how things had now escalated, he feared the Hunters might well try to kill him to prevent the assumed escape attempt.

He focused his attention on Athos.

The lead Hunter pulled out his sword. Will recognized the weapon as the one Athos had drawn in the year 2030, almost a millennium into the past as Will had lived it. Will studied Athos’ movements and read his Energy, trying to deduce when the man would strike. As he calculated his evasive maneuvers, the solution to his problem appeared at the sight of Athos’ unblemished face.

It was so obvious now.

He took a deep breath, taking strength and calmness from the fresh air, feeling the Energy feedback from the trees and brush in the vicinity. He could hear the transport craft now, likely less than two minutes from landing. The engines rumbled the ground just enough for him to feel it.

Will’s memory of the attack in 2030 flashed before his eyes, and though he’d seen much of the attack through eyes denied the corrective lenses he’d needed at the time, there was no mistaking that the scar on future Athos’ face wasn’t there now. Athos had insisted upon slashing open Will’s face in that future attack as payback.

The gash in the skin would provide the opening in the skin he needed for the storage of the pods. The nanos and pods would prevent the skin from stitching back together. The marring of Athos’ face would mean freedom for Will’s friends.

Will called forth a sizable number of his nanos, directing them to assume the form of a sharp dagger. He recalled the pods through the surrounding nanos, directing them to form the cutting edge of the blade. As expected, Athos charged Will, driven by rage at the idea that Will was about to escape yet again, mere seconds before Athos would have celebrated his greatest achievement.

Will sidestepped the Hunter’s sword, slashing his dagger across Athos’ face, just under the right eye, slitting open the skin. As commanded, the nano-encased pods stayed inside the gaping wound. Blood poured out of the gash, sliding down Athos’ cheek. The Hunter was stunned. He reached up and touched the warm, salty liquid, and stared at the crimson fluid on his fingers.

“It will never heal,” Will told Athos as he sent a few extra nanos into the gash, commanding them to keep the wound open long enough to scar. “You’ll have a scar there forever, to remind you each time you look in the mirror that you failed to capture me. Yours will be an ugly scar, to symbolize the evil you enable.”

Athos continued to stare at the blood on his hand. He was clearly disengaged from the battle at hand.

Will turned to face Porthos.

Rather than draw his own sword, the Hunter folded his arms across his chest. “Going to cut me up too, Stark? I thought you didn’t approve of violence.”

Will shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt you, Porthos. Athos came at me with a sword and I defended myself.”

Porthos’ look was one of pure loathing. He was a man incapable of seeing the evil of the Oaths he enforced; in his mind, Will had broken a vow he’d made. That made Will a dishonorable man, one unable or unwilling to keep his word. It mattered not to Porthos that Will had never made the Oaths; any memory to the contrary had been planted there by Arthur.

“You’re going to be imprisoned for your crimes,” Porthos vowed.

“How can that be, Porthos?” Will shook his head, watching as the transport craft was landing in a clearing a hundred yards away. “I’m leaving now. How do you propose to find me so that you can imprison me? It’s not like you’ve had much luck finding me, except when I’ve made mistakes or baited you to my location.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten this, Stark, but I can Track your Energy scent better than any bloodhound.”

Will shrugged. “Perhaps, Porthos. But that ability has never been of much use against me, has it?” Will glanced over at Aramis, who continued to writhe and whimper on the ground nearby. “And what if you
do
find me? Perhaps you’d like to end up like Aramis, mind blown apart and lying on the ground in tears.”

“The only one who’ll be lying on the ground writhing in pain will be
you
, Stark," Porthos hissed. “Your day is coming.” He drew his sword, holding the weapon at the ready.

More than likely my hour is coming
, Will thought, as a wistful look crossed his face. “Yes, perhaps it is.” He watched as the transport craft touched down on the opposite side of the clearing, watched as Aliomenti poured out and began running toward them. Perhaps they were neophytes; Will wasn’t sure why they didn’t teleport. “Best to be prepared then, isn’t it?”

He felt a crushing blow against the back of his head. As he’d talked to Porthos, Athos had regained control, reacquired his rage, and had moved upon Will with a sudden bit of teleportation. The hilt of Athos’ sword sent Will staggering toward Porthos, who waited with his own sword outstretched. Too disoriented to stop himself or teleport away, Will fell into the blade. Porthos pushed forward, burying the sword in Will up to the hilt.

Will remembered Eva’s encounter with Maynard centuries earlier, remembered the elder Adam’s execution a half century ago. It was odd that he’d go the same way. “Not again,” he whispered.

Will watched Porthos’ face, knew his Energy levels must be dropping, for the Hunter’s face revealed a look of triumph. He knew that he needed to get away now. He would have let them take him alive. But now?